


Three Kings: Ardyn

by pheonixgate1



Series: Nos Gerere [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Addendum to a Series, Doctor!Ardyn, MUST READ FIRST: Nos Gerere, Ravus is MIA in this one, The Fantastic Frenemy Voyage, use of sexual slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheonixgate1/pseuds/pheonixgate1
Summary: He wonders if he should add Beast of Burden to his many titles. Ardyn of the Endless Storage. The Crammed.
Series: Nos Gerere [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635643
Kudos: 12





	Three Kings: Ardyn

“How much for the twink?”

Ardyn blinks down at the man who has approached him; not entirely sure what he’s just been asked. Currently he is leaning against the wall in an out of the way spot from the Market’s hustle and bustle; arms across his chest. Thus unencumbered by package or bag, he cannot fathom why this stranger would think he had anything to _sell_.

“I beg your pardon?”

His confusion doesn’t deter the man who grins and jerks his head in the direction of where young Talcott and Noctis have their heads together, browsing the stalls. The once King of Light has his nose scrunched as they look over a selection of fresh produce—his distaste evident.

A pity that the King’s indulgence has left him with the fussy eating habits of a _toddler_.

“Those are your boys, right? Over there? How much for the twink? -Hell, how much for the other one too. I probably can’t afford them both, but gods it’d be worth it.”

Ardyn is glad he’s wearing his shades so the man can’t see the widening of his eyes. The audacity of this city apparently knows no bounds. For whatever reason, this man believes him to be a… oh, what do they call flesh-peddlers now? A pimp?

He must have noticed him watching the two and mistook his simple surveillance for something more… proprietary.

Looking them over with a slightly different eye, he supposes he can see what has drawn the ardent man in. Both are delicately pale and while the youth of the King’s Aide is a natural draw, Noctis is still the prize. Age has tempered his ethereal beauty into something more refined, but still stunning—especially now that he attempts to remain clean shaven.

Standing side-by-side, you cannot distinguish the fact that one is nearly twice the age of the other.

He looks down at the man who stares at him expectantly. There are many ways this could go. He could play along, take the man into a secluded spot in order to conduct ‘business’ and teach him the virtue of real relationships. He’s certain the King would look the other way in this particular instance. But Ardyn has found that he’s lost the taste for violence. His two-thousand-year grudge had taken all he had. -He has nothing left for this poor fool.

“Ahh my friend, you are mistaken. I am naught but a humble doctor. Those boys are in my care, nothing more. You are free to make whatever request you wish of them, but it’s likely neither will have time to indulge you, as we are only here on Crown business.”

Fate must smile down upon him because no sooner does he say this, than someone hails him. He doesn’t recognize them but it’s obvious by the man’s dress and use of his title that they are one of the doctors from Lestallum General.

“Doctor Mirin! What brings you back from Crown City so soon?”

At this, the man blanches. As he and the other doctor dispense pleasantries, the man edges away to disappear amidst the throng. He is lucky. There was a time when Ardyn would have taken pleasure in killing him slowly just for _looking_ at Noctis. They had been enemies, true, but back then all the pain and suffering the world had to offer was his to deliver. _Only_ his.

Once the small talk has ended and he has successfully rebuffed another invitation to attend the ever-burgeoning hospital, he notices Noctis looking at him askance; curious as to why he is talking to strangers, no doubt. Ardyn doesn’t make it a habit, but thanks to his carefully cultivated persona he does have cause to socialize occasionally. He finds it refreshing. A bit of normalcy he wouldn’t have otherwise.

Human interactions seem to have very little middle ground for him. There’s either mediocre conversation over trifles or times like these, where he is mistaken for a sex-trafficker. He doesn’t remember it being this hard in his travels but that time is like a dream to him. Fleeting and entirely unreliable in recall.

He sighs when he sees the size of the parcels the other two have accumulated. He’ll be expected to keep those for the duration of the trip. Until they can be delivered back to Insomnia. Or to whomever the King desires.

He wonders if he should add Beast of Burden to his many titles. Ardyn of the Endless Storage. The Crammed.

Hopefully their business here will be short. It had been a long awkward drive and by the time they reached Lestallum, everyone was pretty desperate to escape oppressive air of the car. Unfortunately, it had been well into the evening when they arrived so they had little choice but to procure lodgings for the night. Which meant close quarters again, but at least it was in sets of two.

Due to the former Commander’s intense dislike of him and subsequent risk of violence, Ardyn was on a regular rotation with either Talcott or Noctis when it came to rooming for the night. Talcott had a mild distrust of him based on principle but after the stress of the day, the young Aide had wordlessly fallen face down into the bedding of their shared sleeping arrangements and stayed that way until dawn. Ardyn had taken pity on him and at least removed his shoes; the rest he left alone.

The boy did not so much as stir.

The next morning, they had gone their separate ways for a bit; save for Noctis, who was a notoriously late riser. Having no real reason to get out of bed before noon, he found himself in the other’s company—who had graciously offered to join him for breakfast. Ardyn had opened a bottle of cider during their meal and took great pleasure in the look of deep depression Noctis had given the bottom of his emptied cup.

“Why did he only have three bottles? -Now I have to ration this.”

His shifty look had not gone unnoticed when Ardyn reminded him that he currently had access to just the one. This had inevitably lead to a lengthy conversation that started with the story of the drink’s origins; a place called Banora, who had been famous for a very rare type of apple and had somehow ended with some disturbing precedents set by previous kings on what could and could not be safely stored in the Armiger.

Those Ardyn found very educational. Apparently, the monarch who had earned the moniker of the Clever had once attempted to save a person’s life by storing them in his armiger until they could be treated for their wounds. It had worked, but the unfortunate person ended up losing their mind in the process; having been trapped too long in a state between life and death.

Lesser organisms like produce however, were another thing entirely. Foodstuffs could be kept indefinitely in the Armiger and upon checking, he was excited to find he had quite a few herbs and fruits that were now considered extinct languishing in his inventory.

He would have to speak to the King about perhaps cultivating some of these long-forgotten plants. The herbs themselves were medicinal and would likely prove useful now that modern medicine production was still getting on its feet.

He is startled from his ruminations at the sound of crates hitting the ground.

Talcott and Noctis are both slightly breathless after transporting their haul. Noctis winces as he stretches; his old injury paining him. He jolts when Ardyn puts a hand over the area. Interesting. The Queen of Tenebrae had been a celebrated healer, but even she had struggled to heal this wound; infected as it was by daemonic ichor. Noctis can thank the Bladekeeper for not succumbing to it at such a young and vulnerable age. Ardyn’s mother had not been so fortunate.

With no Crystal or blessing of the gods to protect her, she had succumbed to the plague shortly after pushing Somnus from her body; her defenses bare after the strain of childbirth. Ardyn had sat with her almost daily during the last of her pregnancy, his healing keeping the corruption within her at bay. She had been terrified of losing the child, and Ardyn can still remember the awe of holding his brother’s impossibly tiny body; his small, grasping hands a wonder.

It took a long time to forgive himself for his distraction. For not seeing his mother’s tired smile become a grimace, then a silent scream as the disease finally laid waste to her exhausted body right on the pallet where she’d given birth.

Thankfully his father had been there to slay the creature she became. Ardyn had merely stood there, useless; his horror freezing him in place as he clutched his brother to his chest. The King had nearly lost both of his sons that fateful day, along with his wife.

He carefully pushes the memory away as he sends healing magic into the other’s back. Old wounds are difficult, but Ardyn’s power over them is almost as complete as his power over the Scourge once was. Noctis sucks in a breath as his flesh shivers and knits under his hand.

When he is done, the younger man blinks at him. He can see the words on his tongue. The dismissal. But when he speaks, he surprises them both.

“That’s…You didn’t have to do that but.. Thank you.”

He makes a careless gesture. Honestly, he should have done it earlier but this is the first time he’d seen it pain the other so. He knows the King only allowed Noctis to go on this trip because Ardyn is here. Denied the power of his ancestors, he is far more vulnerable than his Majesty would like. He’s not sure what game the Draconian is playing in doing this, though he’s certain it’s what the other meant when he said Noctis would be ‘free from the fetters of destiny.’

“So um. Can you do the thing?”

Both young men look at him expectantly. He sighs at the small mountain of vegetables, fruits and spices before taking them into his armiger. He is very careful to keep these new additions away from his older inventory so he can remove them with ease. Even so, it’s becoming quite the mess in there. Someday, he’ll need to take a moment and sort things, but that day is not today.

Talcott scans the area for a familiar white-blond head.

“Anyone see Ravus lately?”

He and Noctis both indicate negative. The boy huffs. “I’d better go check on him. He said he was going to shop some of the local gear, but he’s probably just trying to skip town without us.”

He turns to Noctis. “Text me when you’re ready to meet up.”

He confirms and the Aide wastes no time disappearing into the crowd. After a moment, Noctis looks to Ardyn in consideration; a question on his lips.

“So what was that about earlier? That guy. What did he want?”

To disassemble or not. On one hand, Noctis is an adult and the fact that people notice his good-looks shouldn’t be a surprise by now. The reaction to the fact that someone assumed he was a rent boy might even be humorous. On the other hand, there could also be histrionics involved and he certainly doesn’t have the capacity to deal with that. So.

“Him? He was no one of import. Someone who mistakenly thought I had something to sell. He soon learned his error and moved on.”

Noctis looks skeptical.

“He left in a hurry. Right after you started talking to that other guy. The doctor? -What did he think you even had?”

Ardyn shrugs. Obviously there’s no escaping this line of questioning, so he may as well get his money’s worth.

“I’m still not entirely sure. He used a term I’m not familiar with. -What’s a twink?”

It takes considerable effort not to laugh outright at the younger man’s expression; which wavers between scandalous and hilarity. Ardyn had already sussed the word’s meaning from the context in which it was used, but playing dumb is certainly more amusing. Especially in this case.

Suddenly the implication dawns on Noctis, who’s expression slides into horror.

“Wait. _Wait._ Why did he think…? You were looking over here and… Oh my god, which one of us..? - _Fuck_! Talcott is _nineteen_. Did you see where that creep went?”

The once-King of Light cranes his neck, trying to spot the man who had mistaken him for merchandise of the sexual kind. Ardyn reminds him that the King’s Aide has received training not only from the Immortal and the King himself, but also the Amicitia family of which he is an honorary member. This mollifies him somewhat, though he still gives the shifting masses a critical eye.

Having nothing better to do, they decide to join the hunt for the Great White Beast of Tenebrae. Once they find him, they can hopefully conclude their business and leave. Ardyn will be glad when they can put this place behind them; it has its charms, but he has never had to deal with such ridiculous propositions in all his _life_. Be it brazen beauties or other amorous entities, Lestallum seems to be teeming with people who have no compunction about asking for sex. Entirely without shame and often enough without provocation.

Perhaps its just the times, but he can’t help but be repulsed by it. Sexual liaisons as a bland and uninteresting as a business transaction. No theatre. No chase. No artifice whatsoever.

How awful. He’s glad that his functions below the waist are mostly biological. Any sort of modern romance would be a joyless endeavor for all involved.

“That’s a weird thinking face. I can’t tell if you’re angry or you stepped in something.”

He looks down at the shorter man.

“Wouldn’t those two go together?”

The other man arches a brow.

“Maybe. I get the feeling you don’t like it here but I can’t figure out why. -Everyone is so friendly.”

As if to prove his point he waves at a random person in the street, who waves cheerfully back. Ardyn hums.

“Yes. Perhaps a little _too_ friendly for my tastes.”

Noctis, recalling the events from moments ago, _winces_.

“Yeah. Point taken.”

*

Later, when they are stopped once more; Lestallum firmly at their backs, he contacts the King for his usual update. He gives a slightly abridged version of the day’s events and ends it by asking the same question he asked Noct. He is not disappointed.

Next time he should probably make sure the King isn’t drinking anything.

He’s certain his spit-take made quite a mess.

THE END


End file.
